


Caged Birds

by notsocleverwriter



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), F/M, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, IT AU, M/M, Reddie, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Some Plot, Stanlon - Freeform, Troubled kids, benverly - Freeform, home for wayward kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-06-01 00:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15130862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsocleverwriter/pseuds/notsocleverwriter
Summary: Bill Denbrough and Eddie Kaspbrak are the newest members to a home that houses some of the most troubled souls. Everyone has their reason for ending up in a home for wayward children, some more unpredictable and unforgivable than others. Everyone has their own problems, sure that's a given but when do the lines between anger and depression end and friendship begins? When do you look at someone and not see what they've done but who they truly are? That it seems, it the real queston these band of losers need to awnser.





	1. They Don't Care About Us

**Author's Note:**

> Trying this idea out, because why not. Please let me know what you think because if it's a bust then no big deal! Ships are subject to change....so yeah mostly edited....okay not really. Sorry in advance. Each chapter will cover a different character so it'll be covering all. Song: They Don't Care About Us by Michael Jackson

The black car pulled up to the house, it’s wheels scraping against the curb upon arrival. It wasn’t anything to look at, the shutters were old and the paint had faded, a few windows stood bare-void of any blinds-and the front porch looked as if it had seen better days. The grass was untamed, reminding him of an abandoned house that he knew down from his childhood home. His stomach sank as he swung the open the door, downcasting his gaze to the cracked sidewalk as the social worker walked around to the trunk. All in all, Bill supposed this was better than jail. 

“Alright, shall we take the tour?” The brunette woman spoke chipperly, smiling up at his lengthy figure. Bill nodded, following on her heels as they ascended up to the front door. They were greeted by a blond woman, who introduced herself as the head of the household. A firm handshake was exchanged as she continued to wear a tired scowl. She told him the house rules, things that went in one ear and out the other. Bill didn’t care to listen, instead taking in the scene beside him.

There were three in the front room, playing a card game on the coffee table. When Bill caught the shorter boys gaze the fat faced kid snapped his jaws threateningly making Bill jump in surprise. The other two snickered, their teeth like razors staring back to him. Frowning, he tried to swallow the lump in his throat and headed throughout the home. He was told there were currently seven children living under the roof, six boys and one girl. They were expecting one more this afternoon which was going to be Bill’s roommate. Ten in total, the maximum amount allowed by the state. Each child was assigned chores and if those were not done on a weekly basis they were to be reprimanded, sneak out and you were reprimanded, talk back and you were reprimanded, fight and you were reprimanded. Great, just what Bill needed, more ways to get himself into trouble. 

“Alright Mr. Denbrough, do you have any questions?” 

“N-No Ma’am.” He replied, shaking his head. 

The sharp woman nodded, opening the door before her, revailing a small bedroom with two twin sized beds on either side of the walls. Bill’s storage closet at home was bigger than this. “This shall be your room, two per room excluding same sexes. Your roommate will not be in until later so lucky you, you get your pick of beds.” 

“A-awesome.” Bill muttered under his breath. “Thank you M-M-Mrs-” He paused, not too sure if she had introduced herself or not. 

“Miss Halpert.” She finished, her scowl twitching along her lips. “Once the other boy arrives we will have official introductions with the rest of the house. I suggest you take this time to get adjusted.” Bill nodded, stepping through the threshold and accepting his baggage from the social worker. Once this was done, Miss Halpert slammed the door shut, so violently that the entire room seemed to shake 

Biting his bottom lip, Bill crossed the room in two steps, looking at both beds with disgust. There were stains on both of the mattresses, but one seemed less vomit worthy than the other so he took it. He made his bed mindlessly, using the sheets provided and unpacked his things into the chest at the foot of his bed. Three weeks ago he was standing in a cell, four he was in the seat of is neighbors new Ferrari. It had been a whirlwind, going from a wild child to a felon so quickly he actually believes he received whiplash. He hadn’t always been a bad kid, before everything had went to shit he had actually been a respectful student, a good son and a loving brother. 

But that was before his brother had been murdered. 

His parents refused to recognize the problem that grew in their household after the funeral, refused to even talk about the little boy as if he had never existed. That was when something awakened in him, a retaliation of sorts that fueled his sudden spiral. All he wanted was for his mother and father to take notice, just once. At first it was his grades, and when that didn’t work it was fights with other kids, then weed and alcohol which only made him woozy and depressed. He stole his first car on his sixteenth birthday and nothing had been the same since. A year and half later, as he knelt beside his brothers gravesite, he was arrested. Lucky, due to his age, he was given two choices, jail or a home for wayward kids. Now Bill was rethinking his choice. 

There was talking outside of his door, a few bouts of laughter and one very shitty accent. Bill only stared, afraid to open and face what was on the other side. His stutter only came out when he was nervous or afraid and right now he was sure if he tried to speak it would sound like he was beatboxing. So there he sat, rubbing his palms on his jeans in attempts to calm himself. He missed his room, his bed and most of all, his brother. 

At a quarter past five the bedroom door opened, revealing Miss Halpert and a rather small teenager. Bill stood out of respect, making the host mom eye him suspiciously. The other boy didn’t even look up, not when he entered the room or when the door was shut behind him. Bill watched him throw his things onto the opposite bed and unfold the too white sheets. 

Bill fiddled with his fingers, a knot forming in his stomach. “H-hey if you prefer the oth-ther bed then we can switch. I did-n’t really know if-”

“It’s fine.” The boy cut, shaking his head. “This one is just fine.” 

“I’m Buh-Bill by th-the way. It’s nice to mee-meet you.” He blurted, trying to fill the awkward silence. Nothing. Bill swallowed his tongue, patiently waiting for the response that lingered between them. When it became too much he added, “S-Sorry for the stutter, m-my parents th-think it’s from when m-my dad hit me w-with his ca-ar when I was a buh-baby but I think-”

“Eddie.” The boy snapped back sharply. “And I don’t care about the stutter.” 

Bill smiled softly, even though there was a slight pinch in his chest. Maybe him and Eddie wouldn’t become best buddies, or friends at all but there was finally someone else to keep the small room weighted and for that Bill was thankful.

A knock came at six, and Miss Halpert entered without either of them welcoming her in. “Group therapy is in three minutes.” She announced looking between them. “You will meet the other children and dinner will follow after.” 

Eddie nodded, standing from his bed and pushing past the woman without a word. This made her scoff, a disgusted look crossing her features. Bill wanted to apologize for his roomates rude behavior but felt that it wasn’t his place. Instead he just followed the woman down the stairs and into the living room where the rest of the home had formed a small circle in the provided furniture. Bill tried not to look at any of them, taking the chair between Eddie and the girl with red hair. 

The three boys from earlier watched him, and Bill could feel their heated stares. One of them said something that he couldn’t hear, making the other two burst into laughter. Bill stole a glance from Eddie, who was glaring at the other boys with a look of competele annoyance. This made his heart swell, feeling a little better knowing that Eddie recognized the others rude behavior as well. 

“Alright.” Miss Halpert muttered, taking a seat in the circle. “As you all can see, we have two new housemates. Please go ahead and introduce yourselves and tell us what brings you here.” She spoke quickly, leaving no room for argument. When neither Bill or Eddie made a move to speak she sighed heavily, rolling her eyes and adding. “Edward please go first.” 

Eddie looked uncomfortable, rubbing his upper arm and staring down at his worn out Nikes. It took a moment before he spoke, furrowing his brows and nibbling on the inside of his cheek. “I actually go by Eddie, not Edward.” He paused, shaking his head. “I’m here because I forged Broadway tickets and scalped them on the streets. Got caught and it was either this or jail so-” Eddie shrugged, leaning back into his chair. 

“Mr. Kaspbrak.” Miss Halpert scorned, “I am very disappointed in you!” 

“Yeah well, you and my mother both.” Eddie mumbled under his breath, making the woman across from him shake her head. 

It looked like Miss Halpert was going to argue, her chest puffing outward and her mouth gaping open like a fish but a moment passed and she only grimaced and looked towards Bill. “William, I suppose it’s your turn then.” Eddie flinched, still staring down at his shoes. 

Bill felt like he was going to throw up. “It’s Buh-Bill.” There was a snicker from someone in the group, most likely from one of the three that already stated their obvious disgust. Ignoring the sinking in his stomach he pushed through, “I-I’m here for grand th-theft auto, M-m-my parents th-thought being here would d-do me guh-good and like E-Eddie said it w-was this or j-jail.” 

“Gr-great to me-ee-eet you Buh-buh-Bill.” A boy with a twist face mocked, rolling his eyes into the back of his head and making a rather offensive gesture with his hands.Bill’s face burned with embarrassment, every fiber under his skin vibrating. 

“Henry Bowers, how dare you.” Miss Halpert scorned, stopping her foot. “What did we just talk about last week? Do you want me to call your social worker and have you escorted out of this house?” 

This made the boy flinch, his shoulders slumping and his gestures falling. “No ma’am, I was just trying to have a little fun with the new guy and-”

“Enough.” She snapped, sharpening her teeth on the boy’s skin. “That is enough, you will not speak to Bill or any one that way, do you understand me?” Henry nodded, but Bill knew that this wasn’t over just yet. “Alright,” She nodded, releasing a heavy breath. “Let’s go around the room and introduce ourselves, let these two know why we are here. Beverly?” 

The girl beside Bill looked up, scanning the circle before speaking. “I’m Beverly Marsh, I’m here because I was caught stealing last year. They say third strike and you’re out, well goddamn they are right.” Her light tone made a few others chuckle, the nonchalantly becoming a puff of smoke in the air. 

Next to her was a messy haired boy with thick rimmed glasses and a graphic t-shirt hanging loosely from his bony shoulders. “Richie Toziers the name, smooth talking is my game.” His voice was like bells, the british accent that he took on however was shit. “Got caught when the woman who I was using told her doctor husband that I forced her to hand over the priceless jewelry she was wearing which is bullshit because she was totally into me before that asshat arrived and-”

“Okay Mr. Tozier, I think they get the idea.” Miss Halpert warned, earning herself a two finger salute from the trashmouth beside her. 

“Mike Hanlon, I’m here for using stolen parts in my grandfathers shop.” The boy who had gone unnoticed until then said in a low voice. He was wearing a plaid shirt and grease stained jeans, looking just as out of place as Bill felt. For a moment it looked like he was going to add something, only he nodded and sunk back into his chair. 

“Stan Uris and I’m a hacker.” The boy beside Mike spoke in a sharp tone, his stoic face like stone, his hair like feathers. Miss Halpert gave him a look that made him roll his eyes and mutter, “Downloaded gay porn onto the KKK’s website because I was bored. Fucking firewall tracked down my IP address.” This caused Eddie and Bill to both smile, although rather unorthodox, the entire premise was rather hilarious. 

“Patrick Hockstetter, I’m in because my cocaine dealer ratted my out.” His gin was chesire like, his voice like nails on a chalkboard. Being one of the three that had taken an unhealthy interest in Bill, he licked his lips, staring right at him when he added. “Would have killed him too, if he didn’t squeal like a pig first.” His two friends chuckled and Miss Halpert growled. 

“Victor Criss, domestic disturbance.” There was no other explanation offered from the blonde boy, his answer quick and well put although Bill wondered what he was hiding behind those dark and stormy eyes.

“Henry Bowers, I nearly beat a boy to death last year because he made fun of my father's farm. Fucking Nigger deserved it, and if the cocksucking judge wasn’t fucking a colored girl then I would have walked free.” The slur rolled off of his tongue easily, making Bill’s eyes shift to Mike who squirmed in his seat. Everything he said came out smoothly, his eyes dipping for a second towards the others who cringed at his comment. The word psychopath came to Bill’s mind.

“Alright that’s it, go to your room Mr. Bowers. I’ve had enough of you this evening.” Miss Halpert nipped, pointing towards the stair case. “No dinner, and I’m making a phone call to your social worker in the morning.” 

“But I just-”

“Now.” She irritated harshly, standing from her chair. Henry swayed for a moment, looking over to Bill who immediately dropped his line of sight. With a curse and vow for vengeance he obeyed, stomping his feet against the hardwood floor all the way to his room, where the door slammed shut loudly. Miss Halpert adjusted her dress, composing herself before sitting back down and smiling. “Alright where were we? Oh, Ben go ahead.” 

The boy who sat beside Eddie frowned, his fingers biting into his sweatshirt. He was of stocky build, his face round and his eyes rounder. With a small voice he spoke to the floor. “Ben Hanscom and I’m here for grand arson.” That was it, a quick response that Bill wished was celebrated because he didn’t really didn’t seem like the type to even be in this home let alone go around starting fires. 

With an approving nod Miss Halpert rose again, “Thank you all for speaking. I know sometimes it’s hard to admit our faults but most of you did very well this evening. Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes, take this time to wash up and please treat our new housemates with respect and answer any questions they might have.” 

The children dispersed, walking away in groups. Bill watched Eddie rise and decided to follow him, mostly because he didn’t like the way Patrick and Victor were staring at him. His room mate headed out back along with a few others, not looking back to give Bill the time of day. The yard was a mess of junk, various lawn chairs and stumps spread across the surprisingly large space. Close to the deck was a porch swing, where Stan sat by himself with a perpetual scowl. Bill fell behind Eddie, trying not to seem to eager but feeling the need for comfort bite at his heels. There was a tug on his shoulder, forcing him to turn where he was sure Bowers was waiting. 

Except it was the trashmouth and the girl, both wearing a warm smile. “Hey there Bill, want a smoke?” Beverly asked, offering her pack of cigarettes, “They are against the rules but what that bitch Halpert doesn’t know won’t kill her.” 

Shaking his head he breathed a sigh of relief, “N-no I don’t s-smoke b-but thanks.” 

The girl nodded, placing a death stick between her lips and handing Richie one along with the lighter. “That’s good, it’s a dirty habit for dirty people.” 

“Got that right.” Richie agreed, liting his own stick. He inhaled slowly, leaning his head back against his shoulders and exhaling slowly. “Speaking of dirty people, does your cutie room mate smoke? I’d love to know just how dirty he can be.” 

“W-what?” Bill sputtered, feeling ashamed for Richie's words although they weren’t directed at him. “I d-don’t know. He’s o-only spoken three sen-entances to me. I duh-don’t think-”

“Damn, looks like I’m gonna have to go old school and actually talk to him.” Richie sighed, flicking the ash from the end of his cigarette. “He shunned me earlier before so I thought I’d have an in if his roomie liked me.” 

“Okay first off you don’t even know if he’s gay.” Beverly retorted with a snort, smoke trailing from her nostrils. “He could be straight.” 

Richie scoffed. “Yeah right, a boy with an ass like that is not straight.” 

“I h-havn’t noticed his a-ass.” Bill said, smirking with amusement. These two seemed nice, at least nice enough to not make fun of his stutter. They fell into casual conversation, asking about where he came from and his criminal record. Richie was interested in the cars, Beverly was more intent on knowing why he was caught at a gravesite. While trying to explain the travesty that was Georgie Denbrough, a sharp hiss cut him off. 

“Hey Buh-Bill, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”  
ack off Patrick.” Beverly snapped, flicking her cig. “Just because Henry’s fat mouth got himself in trouble again doesn't mean you can go around and harass the newbies. He didn't do shit to you.” 

“Fuck off slut.” Patrick growled, his lesser friend Victor standing beside him. “I’ll deal with you later. This is between me and the stuttering freak, if you wanna fuck with me we can do that later in your room.”

“Yuh-you can’t talk t-to her like th-that!” Anger bubbling in the back of Bill’s throat, his chest swelling with a misplaced sense of confidence. Richie raised an eyebrow at him, Beverly gaped at his sudden harsh tone. Patrick, however, was grinning ear to ear. There was noise at the back door but Bill didn’t hear it because the next thing he saw was a clenched fist as it slammed against his left eye socket. The force was so strong that it knocked him to the ground, the wind disappearing from his lungs and a splitting pain shooting through his head. He choked out a ragged sob, clutching his bleeding face. 

“Here are a few rules that I’m sure Miss Halpert didn’t tell you. One, you don’t get to talk to us that way. Two, don’t get on my bad side because I have an anger problem and trust me, you would be the first fucking weirdo to beat into submission.” Patrick sneered down at him, his friend whispering warning beside him that went ignored. “These two won’t protect you, you are a nobody understand? A fucking stuttering ass who is going to be leaving in a body bag if he doesn't get his shit straight.”

“F-fuck you.” Bill forced, his fingers digging into the dirt. “I-I’m n-not a f-f-freak! Y-you’re just a fucking b-b-bully!” God, the words sounded so lame and the moment they were gone, Bill wished them back. Patrick was laughing then, moving closer to where he knelt, his eyes going dark and dangerous as he stared at him. Swallowing the fear in his throat, Bill forced himself to his feet, knowing that if he didn’t stand his ground now, he would be dead the moment Henry left his room. 

“Alright, we’ve got a fighter. Perfect.” Patrick purred, stepping closer. “Should have stayed down, would have been much easier.” 

“Leave him alone.” A stern voice command from behind, making Bill turn in surprise. It was Eddie, his jaw clenched and his hands folded. “He didn't do a damn thing to you so why don’t you go back into the house before something happens that we will all regret.”

“I’m sorry short stack, I couldn't hear you from all the way up here.” Patrick jeered, cupping his hand around his ear. “It sounded like you wanted to take stuttering Bill’s beating? That’s awful brave for a soft ticket fraud like yourself so I’ll give you one chance to back down before I punch the living shit out of you.” 

Eddie sighed, unzipping his jacket and handing it over to a gaping Bill. “All I wanted to do was keep my head down and serve my time but you are making that extremely hard when you talk like there is a dick in your mouth.” Richie laughed loudly, throwing fire onto the already raging flame between the boys. “You don’t know what you are dealing with so I suggest you turn around and walk-”

The rest was lost by Patrick's growling yell, his body bolting forward in order to tackle the smaller boy. Everything happened so fast after that, one minute Eddie was standing there talking and the next he was moving asde so that the larger boy would stumble in surprise. Patrick came back full force, throwing a punch that was easily avoided, leaving himself open so that Eddie could elbow him in the stomach, knocking the breath from him. While toppled over, Eddie grabbed bold of Patricks hair, forcing his face to his knee letting out an audible crack as it made contact. 

“HOLY SHIT!” Bill gasped, watching crimson paint Patricks face. 

“You are going to regret this.” The dark haired boy hissed, clutching his nose with one hand and grabbing hold of Victors with the other. “I’m going to kill you Kasprak, do you understand me? You are dead.” 

“I’d like to see you try.” Eddie replied smoothly, grabbing his things back from Bill. The two intruders left, stumbling away and speaking to one another in hushed tones. That left the four, three of which were staring at the small boy with wide, very surprised eyes. “So I may have lied when I said I was in here for forging broadway tickets.” He muttered, pulling on his garment. 

“Beverly, I think I’m in love.” Richie said, grabbing hold of her arm as he gushed. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, glancing up at Bill’s bloody appearance. Sighing he gestured for him to follow, “Come on, I’ll clean you up.” 

Bill didn’t argue.


	2. Carry On My Wayward Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill Denbrough and Eddie Kaspbrak are the newest members to a home that houses some of the most troubled souls. Everyone has their reason for ending up in a home for wayward children, some more unpredictable and unforgivable than others. Everyone has their own problems, sure that's a given but when do the lines between anger and depression end and friendship begins? When do you look at someone and not see what they've done but who they truly are? That it seems, it the real question these band of losers need to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter will be named after a song correlating with the theme.....so yeah. I decided to continue it, even though I have about a million other things to do!!! Ahhh what is wrong with me??? *unedited* Song: Carry on my Wayward Son by Kansas

The stench in the room was unbearable, his own waste clinging to his skin making him feel absolutely disgusting. He was huddled against the corner, his knees pressing themselves against his chest with his arms wrapped around them. It was a safety net position he had learned, something that kept his sanity intact while the world fell apart around him. Deeper and deeper he sank into himself, time and space becoming irrelevant as he tried to hold onto the the tears that threatened to spill. In the dim light he could make out the crucifix that hung on the door, mocking him in every way. 

How long had it been this time? Three, four days? He couldn’t tell, the closet had no windows, no clocks, nothing to give him the slightest indication of night and day. His stomach clenched, reminding him of the unhealthy state his punishment left him in. There was a burning in his throat every time he tried to swallow, scorching as what little saliva he had went down. He felt his weakness creeping up his spine, settling at the base of his skull. Every muscle in his body aching from sleeping in the cramped space and he wanted nothing more than to stretch out his legs. 

He was going to die in this room. 

There was a clicking noise on the other side of the door, making Eddie jump out of his stretched skin. Suddenly the barrier was ripped open, light spilling into the closet so rapidly that he shelided his eyes. His mothers high pitched squeal rang in his ears, her misplaced sympathy for what she had done making him want to vomit. “Oh Eddiebear, look at you. My poor, poor baby. Do you want to shower? Mommy has made your favorite meal but you need to clean yourself before I can allow you downstairs.” 

She reached out for him, her meaty hands clasping themselves around his wrists to pull him up but instinctively he fought it, using what energy he had left to thrash out of her clasp. This made Sonia flich backwards, her face turning downward into a scowl. “What a bad boy! Did you not learn anything! Maybe another day in here and you will appreciate your mother! Maybe then you will see that I’m doing this to help you!” 

The door was closing, a sudden panic rising up in Eddies throat. He rose to his feet, stepping forward and slamming his palms against the wood in a desperate attempt at freedom. “No!” He cried out, his words like fire in his lungs. “No, please Mama, don’t leave me in here! I’ll be a good boy, don’t lock me away again! Please!” Tears fell from his eyes, trailing down the rise and fall of his sunken cheeks and onto the soil stained floor. “Please, I can’t-don’t do this.” 

Her strength was well beyond his, reminding him of how weak and pathetic he truly was. “Not until you respect your mother. Good boys respect their mothers and don’t stare at other boys the way you do. Good boys respect God's word and don’t-”

“No! No please!” Eddie yelled, pressing his entire weight into his defense. “Please don’t leave me in here!” 

“I will not have a faggot for a son.” Sonia hissed, slamming the door shut with one final shove. 

“Mama!” Eddie screamed at the top of his lungs, his fists pounding against the door. “Mama! Please! I’ll be good! I’ll be good Mama!” Falling to his knees he continued to sob, calling out for a mother that wouldn’t come for another day, dragging his limp body out and tossing him into the shower. It would be a week in the hospital after this, with tubes coming from his body and nurses fussing over his state. It would be lies and pills and so much more pain. 

But for now Eddie cried, staring up at the crucifix that held so many sour memories. In those moments he prayed, prayed for salvation, for food and for water, for a life he didn’t have. More than anything he prayed for strength, the strength to never fell so powerless ever again. 

As God as his witness he would do whatever it took to make that happen. 

\----

“Alright, look up.” 

Bill did as he was told, stretching the torn skin so that Eddie was able to clean out the dirt that imbedded itself in it. It was mostly silent in their shared room, only a hiss every now and then when the antibiotic touched the wound. A lingering question hung between them, one that wasn’t spoken but Eddie knew would come nonetheless. He had chased that nasty Tozier boy and the red head off, cursing them in the process. They may not like him, but god damn they would respect his space. 

Eddie sighed, tossing the bloody gaze into the wastebasket beside him. “That should be it. It’s going to be a nasty bruise but it could have been much worse.” 

“Yeah th-thanks to you.” Bill stuttered out, looking up to him with hero worship. “You s-save me an a-ass whooping.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

“What you d-did Eddie I-”

“Seriously, don’t mention it.” Eddie snapped, backing away with a huff. “Ever. Last thing I need is people thinking I’m going to protect them all the fucking time.” He pretended not to see the hurt that flashed across his room mates face or the pull in his chest. The last thing Eddie needed right now was a burden, and to the scared little boy, friendship was just that. 

“How d-did you do all of th-that? W-With Patrick?” 

“You mean how did I beat his ass?” He pressed, raising an eyebrow. Bill nodded, because what else would he be asking. “I was taught, a long time ago.” Offering nothing else he packed up his own personal first aid kit, stuffing it under his bed. The back of his neck was burning from his roomies gaze, questions that were about to come brimming along the horizon. “By someone long gone.” 

There wasn’t a response, not for a long time. Eddie kept his gaze downward, not daring to steal a glance for fear of what he would see. He could feel his guilt and sorrow bubbling up inside of him, pressing against his chest like a rising storm. Swallowing hard he forced it down, afraid that if he dipped close enough it would consume him whole. 

“You s-said you wern’t h-here for faking t-tickets. Wh-what did you do?” 

It was a bold question, coming from a bold boy. Eddie debated on lying, on feeding him another lie but there was something in Bill’s eyes, something he had noticed the first time they met. It was pleading for the truth, and Eddie was helpless to oblige. “I was caught fighting in an illegal ring. It was a huge bust, uncovered the entire operation and arrested everyone there. I was the only one underage so I was given amnesty for the majority of the charges.” 

“You w-were fighting?” 

“Street fighting yeah. It was dirty and bloody but it paid the bills.” Eddie shrugged, biting back the regret in his tone. 

“So you w-were good?” 

“The best.” 

Bill beamned, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “I b-bet you took dow-down men t-twice your size.” The warmth in his smile forced Eddie to recropcate, even if he didn’t want to he was powerless against his endearing aura. He was being sucked in, and never would he admit that he wasn’t even trying to hold back. 

“Three.” Eddie corrected, smirking. “I was called the jackrabbit, the bets against me funded the entire ring. I was bait, a fan favorite. At my best, I could tear down mountains. At my worst, I could carve my name in stone.” Everything told him to stop, to keep the words of his mentor to himself but there, sitting across from him was Bill, his wide eyes and gapped mouth begging for so much more. A memory flashed across his eyes, making his heart plummet. His lips become dry and his mouth became parched, depression crashing into his walls. Looking down at his hands he muttered, “But that was before, now I just want to survive my time and move on.” 

The tension became noticeably thick, and Eddie sank into himself. Groaning, Eddie threw himself back into the mattress, waiting for the inevitable. What came however, was not what he expected, but rather a sincere and crucial moment between slowly bonding hearts. “In m-my experience, th-things are always h-hardest when you are r-unning away. The s-sun will always r-rise when we are consumed-by the dark.” 

“What did you get that from the back of a cereal box?” This made Bill laugh, in turn forcing Eddie to follow. Their chuckles and hearty tones filled the room, rising and falling with happiness. For the first time in forever, a weight was lifted from Eddies shoulders allowing him a fresh breath of air. Soon their voices died down, quieting until there was nothing left. They stayed like this until Miss Halpert came for him, until he was forced to face the consequences of his actions.

But all in all three weeks of laundry duty was worth it. 

As he walked back from the kitchen, Eddie felt his feet become heavier and heavier as sleep pressed onto him. He had been scorned for an hour, the head of the household’s words sliding off of his skin like droplets of water. Honestly he didn't care if that bitchy lady liked him or not, didn’t care if she disapproved of his lie during group or if she was infuriated at Patricks broken nose. This place was a passing thing, a stop to his life of inadequacy. What was one more blemish on his skin? One more scar on his back? 

Nothing seemed to matter. 

“Hey new kid.” The voice made Eddie stop in his tracks, his back stiffening as if to expect a blow from behind. There was a snicker, a familiar tone that made Eddie’s stomach knot. “Long time, no see eh?” Turning he met Richie’s suggestive stare, his eyes magnified by his thick glasses. How this buck toothed, grungy nerd was able to smooth talk his way out of anything was beyond him. 

“Leave me alone Trashmouth.” Eddie bit, rolling his eyes and turning heel.

“I was just going to praise you on your little act today. The whole, I’m a small weakling bit really had me going. And to think I thought I was the conman of this operation!” Richie jeered, leaning against his doorframe. Behind him sat his roommate, Stan Eddie thought was his name, his head down as he wrote in a small leather back book. Weather he was blatantly ignoring the conversation or just unaware of Eddie was uncertain. “Bravo my good sir, bravo.” Richie clapped sarcastically, smirking.. “What do I gotta do to get a piece of that action?” 

“Oh shove it up your ass.” 

“I’ll shove something up your ass.” Richie retorted quickly. Eddie choked, looking at the boy with a mixture of disgust and impressiveness. Not everyone would come up and speak to him after seeing that side of his life, let alone hit on him in such a disrespective manner. “Missed you at dinner, I saved you a spot and everything.” 

“Leave him alone Rich.” Stan warned from the bedroom, still writing in his book. “You are going to get your ass kicked.” 

“Is that a guarantee?” Richie jeered, winking. Eddie scoffed, stomping away in a huff of annoyance. Richie’s laughter followed him down the hall, only being drowned by Stan’s quick words of disapproval. 

The day had dragged on, ending in a surprisingly decent way. He had expected the trouble but not the reward. As he feet dragged across the floor, he wondered what the next six months held for him. Good or not, it seemed to be a game changer. Finally he reached his bedroom door, the soft hum of Bill’s music seeping through the cracks. Usually he would hate the upbeat tune, but for once it brought a sense of hope. 

“Eddie?” 

Turning, he half expected Richie again only to find Mike standing in the doorway across from his. He looked just as timid as he did in the meeting, his body language screaming fear and uncertainty. Eddie was naturally small and still Mike seemed smaller. “Yeah?” He replied, looking down the hall to where Richie had been. 

“I heard what you did, about Patrick and his broken nose.” Mike half whispered, Eddie opened his mouth to reply but was cut off. “I wanted to thank you. Those three think they run this place and even if you did just do it for Bill, it affects all of us.” When Eddie frowned, he added, “I-In a good way.” 

“I-” Eddie glanced back to his hand that was still placed on the knob. “I don’t know what to say.” He admitted, his heart jumping into his throat and staying here. “Thank you? I think?” 

Mike only nodded, saying no more and disappearing back into his bedroom. Eddie stood there for a moment longer, the lingering moment hanging between him and the empty hallway. Finally he was able to go back into his room, where his first friend in over five years waited for him. 

Maybe, just maybe this place could bring about change in his darkened soul.


	3. Take Me to Church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill Denbrough and Eddie Kaspbrak are the newest members to a home that houses some of the most troubled souls. Everyone has their reason for ending up in a home for wayward children, some more unpredictable and unforgivable than others. Everyone has their own problems, sure that's a given but when do the lines between anger and depression end and friendship begins? When do you look at someone and not see what they've done but who they truly are? That it seems, it the real question these band of losers need to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Take Me to Church by Hozier.

“Richie, god damn it! What have I told you about picking up your shit?” 

His roommate stood at the doorway, a permanent scowl etched into his face. Angrily he kicked at a sock, profanity growling deep in his throat. Maybe Richie should do more to try and piss less people off, that was what his social worker had suggested when he had been arrested but the sense of not giving a shit was too strong. Instead of apologizing like he should, Richie looked up from his comic book and dripped sarcasm. “Stan the man, cleanliness is next to godliness and I haven't been close to god since the day I was baptised.” His smile curled at the corner of his lips, “Besides, I love to see you drop low to pick up my stuff. Like my own personal maid, I should really get you one of those little maid outfits to wear. You know, the ones that show part of your ass?” 

“You are a real piece of work, do you know that?” Stan huffed, throwing a sweat stained shirt at the trashmouths face, missing by a foot. Richie laughed, unable to not appreciate the hackers shitty skill. “I can’t believe I got stuck with you as a roommate, I should have ditched your ass and bunked with one of the newbies!” 

“You love me.” Richie nipped confidently, shimming on his sheets. “You wouldn’t be able fall asleep unless I was there to serenade you. Don’t lie!” 

“I’m going to kill you in your sleep.” 

“Ouch.” He faked gasped, clutching at his chest. “Stanley, you are breaking my heart.” Dramatically he forced a hiccup, wiping the invisible tears from his eyes. “I thought we were gonna make it out of here and start a family, you said you were going to give me the world!” In reality, Richie knew what he was. He knew his antics did all but kill any possibility of actually creating bonds but he was alright with that. What had being kind ever done for him besides create scars along his veins. “I gave you everything!” 

“Fuck you, you Kurt Cobain wannabe! When I get out of here I’m gonna fuck up all of your records and change your name to-”

“Letting this guy get to you again?” A soft voice sang from behind the vivid hacker. She stood there like a visionary in black, hip cocked and eyebrow raised. “You are better than that Stan, you know he is just full of hot air.” 

Stan huffed, his face scrunching in a way that made Richie want to ask if he had taken a load down his throat. “Better get that dog on a leash Beverly, or else he is going to piss on the wrong leg and end up in a ditch.” 

“Noted.” Beverly agreed, nodding as Stan pushed past her angrily. They sat there for a quiet moment, allowing the tension to fizzle, leaving a sense of ease of friendliness. Laughing, the red head bent down and picked up one of Richie’s shoes, tossing it to where he stayed at on the bed. “You know Stan is coder right? He really can fuck up your life and yet you insist on torturing him with all of this.” She waved casually, passing over all of him. 

“Are you vaguely gesturing to me?” Richie asked, tossing aside his comic and faking a hurt look. “You of all people know I’m a catch Marsh, grade A material.” 

“Yeah if A stands for asshole.” She shot right back. 

“Ho ho, Beverly gets off a good one!” Things had been so simple between the two of them, a mutual respect and common ground allowing them to get close to what Richie would consider as friendship. Once upon a time-six months or so ago-they had arrived together in the same jet black car with matching bruises under their eyes and curses on their lips. Although never spoken, but Richie assumed that she had it just as bas as he did, if not worse. It had been easy to follow the confident woman around, easier to fall into a routine of playful banter. “Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna find my soulmate in this dump. Stan’s just upset that I won’t take him from behind is all.”

“Yeah that can’t possibly be true.” She snorted, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Now get up, we have group in ten minutes and if you are late again Miss Halpert is going to give you dish duty again.” 

“Ah, Miss Halpert can shove it up her ass.” Richie groaned, ruffling his already messy hair. “I don’t have time for all that touchy feely shit, I’m too busy being awesome. Besides, I’m already on dish duty this week so there is nothing that is going to make me magically jump from this bed and rush to-” 

There was a gentle voice that came through the hall, followed by playful laughter and a stutterd response. Feeling his stomach jump into his throat Richie bolted from his mattress and hurried to the threshold just in time to catch Eddie and Bill making their way to the front room. Unable to keep himself from smiling, he leaned against the frame and whistled a disgustingly suggestive tune. They looked up, Bill frowning and shaking his head and Eddie, well Eddie nearly growled. “God damn Eds,” Richie cooed, licking his lips. “That sweater does look damn good on you but would look even better on my bedroom floor.” 

Eddie didn’t give a response, as per usual, merely turning his nose upward and brushing past him. The smell of his lavender soap wafted back into Richie making his mouth water. Shamelessly he watched the adorable boy pass by, staring at the assets he carried on his backside. Typically, Richie wasn’t one for casual hookups but fucking christ, that little fighter was going to be the death of him. 

“Okay you really need to stop doing that.” Beverly warned, snapping Richie from the trance Eddie’s ass had casted on him “He is in here for street fighting, so once he gets tired of your shitty pick up lines he is going to bust your teeth in.” 

“Na, he won’t.” Richie confidently puffed, “I’m gonna win that litteral hard ass over, just you wait.” 

“Oh is that so?” 

“You know I’m in here for smooth talking a lady out of her life savings right? What is Eddie but another needy soul looking for some comfort?” Confidence was in his blood, even if it was misplaced at times. He had learned early in life that he could use his mouth to get things, things like food, money and even sex when he wanted it. In the past few years alone he had only been shot down twice, once in a Seven Eleven, and once in the hallway of this very place on the day Eddie had arrived. “I’m guarantee I’ll have him pinned down on my mattress in a month.” 

“I’ll take that bet.” Richie looked up, noticing Henry standing there for the first time. His large frame towered over the two friends, his eyes like black saucers staring down at the trashmouth as his teeth exposed a sinister grin. “I have fifty bucks that you can’t get Eddie to sleep with you.”

Richie choked for a moment, unprepared for the weight that pressed onto his chest. A bet? It wasn’t the first one he had taken but usually it was just playful things to pass the time, this almost seemed….wrong? He could feel Beverly’s gaze on his neck, burning the skin. Brushing the gross feeling, Richie recovered, giving a cocky smile. “What are the terms big man? Are we talking about full on sexy time or playful touching?” 

“I’m talking about full on faggot sex.” Henry hissed, almost sounding angry. The tainted word slid down Richie's skin, leaving a sticky and tender trail. “You said a month? One month to fuck that guy in the ass, let’s do that.” 

“Let’s not.” Richie corrected, making a ticking noise with his tongue wiping the grime from his skin. “A boy like that needs to be wined and dined, the full on Tozier experacne.” 

“Okay, so how long?”

“Hmmm.” Richie thought, tapping his finger on his lips. There was a hand on the small of his back, a warning whisper in his ear from the friend beside him. It all went unnoticed, because what was Richie Tozier but a smooth suave man who could talk his way out of anything….or into anything. “Three months.” 

“Three months!” Henry half gasped, half shouted. “Jesus Christ, that’s practically a lifetime in a place like this!.” 

“That’s the bet.” The trashmouth sneered, sticking his hand out and laughing “Take it or leave it beheimeth.” For a moment it seemed like Henry was going to back down and in those mere seconds Richie felt as sense of relief, but then his meaty hand went into his as a gentlemen's agreement was met. It all tasted sour on the trashmouths tongue, burning his throat as he swallowed thickly. Beverly hissed his name but yet again, went completely ignored. 

“I’m looking forward to my fifty bucks Tozier.” Henry sneered, pulling away and wiping his hand onto his dirty jeans. “That little fag won’t let you near him with a ten foot pole.” 

“Now, but come at me in three months.” He smoothly replied, winking. Bowers chuckled, actually chuckled and left, his loud footsteps carrying back to where Richie still stood. There was a twist in his gut, making him feel as if his breakfast was about to come back up. Knowing that Beverly was still behind him, he plastered on a grin and looked up at her with sparkling eyes. It didn’t look, because still she she frowned in disapproval. 

“You are going to regret doing that Rich.” It was a warning and a statement, one that shook Richie in his bones. “Honestly, a bet with the likes of Henry Bowers? What in the hell are you th-”

“So group yeah?” Instinctively he cut, not wanting to get a speech. “Let’s go because if I’m late one more time I’m pretty sure Miss Halpert is going to have an aneurysm.” Firing his finger guns he skipped across the threshold and down the hall, hearing Beverly’s soft curses nip at his heels. He didn’t look back or slow down once he hit the stairs, taking them two at a time and arriving at the base in seconds. The front room was half full with his housemates, lounging around and engaging in casual conversation. 

He caught a glimpse of Eddie just as he sat down in one of the chairs, Bill on his left and an empty seat on his right. Not really thinking much about it, Richie strolled in with sexual confidence coming from his pores. Stopping just short he licked his lips and cleared his throat. “Did you save me a seat Eds? That’s awfully kind of you.” Eddie looked up and scowled, narrowing his eyes. “Really thoughtful, I mean here I thought-” A bump on his shoulder stopped his words and Mike’s figure plopping down in the seat deflated his self-assurance. “Wait, what? I was gonna-”

“Oh do you want to sit here Richie?” Mike asked, looking up to him with those big innocent looking eyes. “I can move if-”

“It’s fine, Richie was just leaving.” Eddie butted in, shooting a cold look at the trashmouh. BIll stifled a chuckle in his hands and Mike looked like he was trying to keep down his own form of amused laughter. Gaping he waited for something else, a sign that he was imagining the embarrassment that clawed at his chest. When nothing came he turned heel and strode across the room to where his friend sat shaking her head. 

“That was real smooth.” She commented as he took a seat. “Great icebreaker.” 

“Shut up.” He hissed, feeling the itch for nicotine chew on his abdomen. “It’s only day one. Great things take time.” 

“Eddie is going to kill you.” 

“Alright kids, find your seats so we can begin.” Miss Halpert said, rushing in through the kitchen with her heels announcing her before she spoke. “In the usual circle please, we have lots to discuss.” The rest of the house piled in, sitting in various places, Stan took the seat beside Richie, much to the trashmouths shock. 

The hacker leaned in, whispering softly so that only Ichie could hear. “I want in.” It took the trashmouth by surprise, making him sputter a quiet ‘what?’. Stan rolled his eyes, “The bet with Henry, I want in. Fifty bucks right?” 

“Uh…” He started, glancing up to where the small fighter sat with his roommate, wondering just how in the hell Stan had heard so fucking fast. Thinking about it, he figured it was more money in his pockets and nodded. “Okay, for or against me.” 

“Oh god, definitely against.” 

“Wow, two heartbreaks in one day? You are killing me Uris!” 

“Richie,Stan, is there something you want to share with the rest of us?” Miss Halpert’s sharp tone made the two boys jump. Quickly both of them shook their heads and leaned back into their chairs. “Alright, well our topic today is our parents.” Everyone in the room groaned, “Okay, yes I know that is a touchy subject but sometimes it is easier to talk about hard things with kindred spirits. Who wants to start.” Of Course no one volunteered, “Mike, how about you? What are your parents like?” 

The boy next to Eddie shifted in his seat, casting his gaze downward. “My parents are dead.” It was a quick response, but a common one nonetheless. Miss Halpert cleared her throat, urging him to continue. “But I was raised by my Grandfather, he took me in after the-uh-after the fire.” 

“And what is he like?” 

“He’s a good man, strong work ethic and hard head.” A small smile crossed his lips for a second before melting away. “He was pretty upset when I was arrested, angry even. I guess I disappointed him.” Mike sounded sad, which was weird for the usual light hearted boy. Richie felt a joke at the tip of his tongue but bit down to kill it before it could escape. “Uh, yeah. That’s all I want to say about that.” 

“Very good Mr. Hanlon. I am happy that you were able to share.” And she really sounded like she was, looking to her next victim, she added, “Eddie, what about you?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Mine are dead too.” 

“Alright, I’ve let your lying go because you were new to the program but you have been here a week.” Miss Halpert growled, crossing her arms. “Tell the truth or else you will be dismissed from group and punishment will follow.” 

The smallish boy sighed, “Well she’s dead to me.” 

“Mr. Kaspbrak…”Miss Halpert warned. 

“Fine.” He barked out, sharpening his teeth on the head of the houses skin. “Fine, my mother is alive. Obese, insane and alive but I haven't seen here in over four years. I left that hell hole and never looked back so she could kill over and I wouldn’t even blink.” 

“You don’t mean that.” The phrase didn’t have an ounce of force or anger, but rather sounded more like a question than anything else. “She is still your mother no matter what-”

“Oh trust me, I mean it.” Eddie snapped back, rearing in disgust. 

Miss Halpert shook her head in defeat, not pressing any further as she moved on, skipping past some and jumping to the other side of the room. “Mr. Tozier, what about you? What do you have to share?” Richie blinked, suddenly aware that he had been staring at Eddie’s angered face with a swell growing in his chest. The words he had spoken hit home, right where the caged memories he kept deep down lived. When he didn’t answer Miss Halpert, snapped her fingers, demanding his attention. 

“Mr. Tozier, please tell us about your parents.” 

\----

“Can’t you do anything right boy! Fucking christ!” 

The bottle shattered right next to his ear, sounding like a gunshot in the night air. Instinctively, he ducked down, shielding himself from the spray of glass and wincing as his face began to drip red crimson from the cuts he received. He couldn’t stop trembling, the waves of fear and submission crashing into him more violently than his own father's hateful tone. Whimpering he pleaded for mercy, knowing that it would never come. Not from this man. 

“Stop? You want me to stop?” Wentworth asked, a horse and broken laugh rumbling in his chest as he stepped closer to his cowering son. “You pathetic piece of shit, how in the hell are you my son?” Drunklingly he swayed, the heel of his work boot making contact with Richie’s face, sending in to the floor. “I raised you to be better! So be better!” 

“I’m trying!” Richie choked out, unwanted tears clumping against his lashes. Desperately he tried to keep them from falling, knowing the moment they trailed down his face his father would continue his torment. They fell, even though he had prayed to every deity that they wouldn’t and the kick to his kidney remind him of why praying was for the weak. “Ow, please! Please stop, I’m trying Dad! I’m try-Mom! Help me! Mom!” 

“Oh you are calling that whore?” Wentworth asked, leaning over to the kitchen table to grab another bottle. Snickering be twisted the cap, savoring the sweet hiss that followed. “She isn’t going to do shit because, unlike you, she knows her place.” The television in the front room was blaring, the laugh track that played mocked the situation entirely. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times Richard and when I’ve told you a million times that earns you punishment. It’s simple, how don’t you understand?” 

 

“I do under-” He was stopped as the full bottle of liquor shattered at his side, sharp shards digging into his arm as he tried to defend himself. Pain radiated from every nerve ending in his body, keeping him grounded to this moment. He shook from the sobs, shivered from fear and cried from his own father's hand. “Please.” He choked, keeping his head ducked down and safe. “Please, I won’t miss curfew again. I-I’m sorry.” 

The man scoffed, “Sorry is a shit stinking sentiment. Remember that son, never be sorry.” Richie only nodded, not looking up or moving. Heavy footsteps lead past him, leaving the withering boy on the kitchen floor, soaked in his own blood, reeking of alcohol that he did not consume. It would be hours before Richie was able to move, paralyzed by terror. 

This hadn’t been the first time and it wouldn’t be the last, even at thirteen Richie understood this. Making it to his room he made sure to lock the barrier to keep out the rest of the world. Although he didn’t expect another outburst from his intoxicated father he knew his mother would come eventually, whispering apologies and excuses that he didn’t want hear. Without thinking much he opened his nightstand, removing the pack of razor blades he had stolen last week. 

He wasn’t really sure when he had started mutilating himself but somewhere between the beatings and hunger he had decided to control what he could and that included the marks trailing across his wrist. There was no pain, there never was. With blown pupils he watched the trail of blood, wishing he could empty everything that was in his veins so that he would never have to feel his father's abuse again. 

Maybe someday.

But not tonight. 

Not now. 

And as he continued to trace the razor along his skin he vowed that someday, he would be able to control more than just this. Richie Tozier would be worth something, to someone no matter what his father thought and life would get better. 

At Least….he hoped.


	4. The Times They Are A-Changin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill Denbrough and Eddie Kaspbrak are the newest members to a home that houses some of the most troubled souls. Everyone has their reason for ending up in a home for wayward children, some more unpredictable and unforgivable than others. Everyone has their own problems, sure that's a given but when do the lines between anger and depression end and friendship begins? When do you look at someone and not see what they've done but who they truly are? That it seems, it the real question these band of losers need to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: These Times They Are A-Changin' by Bob Dylan. 
> 
> Please leave a comment, tell me what you think or where you think I should go next! I'm finding it hard to write the others, Mike was super hard and I don't really like how Ben came across. Hopefully I can make up for it later on but ugh...I don't know I feel so defeated......

The sky had wept all morning, offering nothing to lighten the weight that hung in the air. People who dressed in black shuffled together across the well kept grass. Unspoken emotion floating like dust in the mid afternoon evening, suffocating anyone who dared to take a breath. The caskets must have been heavy because the pallbearers struggled as they tried desperately to navigate the muddy ground. Standing side by side they went, in between headstones and memorials as their destination brimmed the horizon. Tears had been shead, words spoken and now all that was left were the soulless bodies doomed to remain six feet under for the rest of eternity. 

Mike held onto his umbrella so hard that his knuckles had turned white eight feet ago. He could hear the hushed voices of his faceless relatives, speaking about him as if he wasn’t there. All eyes had been on him from the moment all of this had began, all remorse was placed onto his chest as he stood beside the two caskets alone. They had seemed sad, devastated even however there was not one person who had stepped forward to help. Custody had been up in the air, set between a distant grandfather and an even more distant uncle, which neither seemed too eager to step forward and claim the orphan. 

Finally they arrived, the crowd moving in as close as they could, crowding the young boy. The preacher began to speak again, his words unreachable as Mike watched the ground. It was all a blur, the fire, his stint in intensive care, even the rushed memorial. To him it all seemed so pointless, burying bodies that had already been so badly burned that it had taken three days to identify. They were nothing but ashes and that was what Mike had begged that they stayed as but instead they were stuffed in expensive caskets, given an expensive ending that went against the seven year olds wishes. It had eaten up all of their savings, now all that was left of William and Jessica Hanlon was a few pictures and a lone boy. 

Soon people began to scatter, placing a single rose atop of each of the too black caskets. The red was like a contrasting masterpiece, the sleek sheen reflecting the image perfectly as if made from glass. Mike was tantalize by the illusion of unison, of the beauty of it all. Eventually he found that he was by himself, which he had become accustomed to over the past few weeks. His arm and thigh ached from the constant movement, the moisture for his bandages seeping through the cheap suit the social worker had bought for him leaving ugly stains. If he sat still enough he could still heat their screams, the high pitched pleas for mercy that the flames had ignored. An all too familiar scent of searing flesh began to burn his nose, urging his stomach to cleanse itself. 

Never had he actually felt alone, not with so many people fawning over him, but now as he sat beside his parents for one last time he felt loneliness began to dig its claws into his spine. There was no place to go and no one to go with. His home had burned down along with the only living souls that had cared about him, God had not been too kind as of late. 

“Michael?” A deep voice asked from behind, making the small boy turn. There standing across the way was an old man, wearing black clothes and tired lines along his face. For a moment it was as if an older version of his father was there with him, ready to give him the hope and solidarity that he begged for but the illusion faded and all that was left was a withering figure. The man began to move closer, holding his hat between his fidgeting fingers. “You’re Michael right?” 

“M-my mom calls me Mike.” The small boy replied, wiping away the tears that he didn’t know had been staining his cheeks. “A-at least she used to.” The realization of his own words were sour in his mouth, leaving a horrific after taste. 

“Well Mike, I’m your grandfather. Williams father.” 

“So you’re dad’s dad?” Mike asked, glancing back towards the memorial picture that was encased with wild flowers. “The one from those old pictures he used to have in his room?” 

“Yes, that’s right.” He replied with a sad smile. “You are coming with me son, I’m going to take care of you now.” 

“Take care of me?” 

“Yes..” Mike’s grandfather nodded, shifting his feet awkwardly. “I know I haven't seen you since you were born but it’s my obligation as your grandfather to raise you now, like your father would have wanted.” 

“You don’t want me do you?” Mike muttered, mostly to himself. 

The old man’s brows furrowed, his entire body semily slouching at his grandsons own revelation. He sighed heavily as he replied just as softly. “I’m quiet old my boy, much older than most. Taking in a child at my age is an obligation that I was not sure I could handle”. Mike felt like crying all over again, unacquainted feelings of abandonment settling at the base of his skull. “But you are my responsibility now, and I will see it that you grow up to be just as fine as your father was. That much I can promise you Mike. I may not be able to throw a ball with you or run around like other parents but I will love you and care for you just as I had done with your old man twenty years ago.” 

Mike wasn’t sure what to say, so he said nothing. Instead he turned away from his grandfather and watched the caskets, half expecting something else to come in and wreck his life. There were so many emotions that he still didn’t understand, didn’t want to understand. Things that had been forced upon the young boy, demanding him age years within weeks. He could complain that life was unfair, that he missed his father's voice or his mother's touch, that all he truly wanted was to go home and settle into some kind of normalcy that that place had once held for him, but part of growing up was realizing that there were very little people who actually cared to listen. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, it’s grip strong and engulfing. “It’s time to go.” 

“Go where?” Mike whimpered, sniffling a little. “Where am I going to go now?” 

“Home.” 

\---

 

The opening of his bedroom door pulled his attention from the book that he had in his hands, causing the words in his head to plummet to the floor. It was what he had expected, his roommate standing there with freshly wet hair and his shower caddy in hand. With a sympathetic smile, Ben moved to his side of the room, shoving his things into the chest at the foot of his bed. 

All in all the Hanscom boy had been the perfect roomie. Mike knew he had dodged a bullet, considering all the shit that Stan had to put up with his. Ben was quiet, considerate, and very clean. Rairly did he speak without being spoken to, his things were always put away and his down time activities involved headphones and a notebook that he constantly wrote in. Not really the type of activity associated with arsonists, but then again Mike was here for things that did not fit him as well….or at least he hoped. 

Clearing his throat Mike decided it was time for their daily conversation, “How was your shower?” Lame, so fucking lame that it tasted like paper in his mouth. It was apart of a script, one that they bounced off of one another every afternoon. 

“It was fine, just missed Bowers.” He replied shyly, adjusting the too large sweatshirt he had slipped on after the shower, dark water stains still along the chest and back and Mike tried not to notice. Ben dressed as if he was overweight, even though he was slimmer than Mike himself. It was like his mind hasn't registered the weight loss, like he carried pounds that had been shedded long before. Mike wanted to ask why but knew that it was not his place. 

“That’s always good.” Mike muttered, “That guy is a dick.” 

Ben whispered in agreement, sitting on his bed with a small sigh. Looking at his feet he asked, “Hey, you talk to that Eddie kid right?” 

Mike blinked, surprised with the change in conversation. “Uh, no one really ‘talks’ to him. I’ve had two conversations lasting seven sentences total. The only one who I’ve seen him actually talk to regularly is Bill but even then it’s Bill talking to him, not the other way around” 

“Oh.” Ben replied, defleateing. “I just saw you sit next to him in group and thought-” He shrugged, “I don’t really know.” 

“Yeah I sat next to him in group but that’s only because Richie was going to sit by him and I know how much that guy bugs him.” Well, bugs everyone is more like it. “I was just trying to be nice is all, and Eddie looked like he appreciated it.” 

“Okay.” 

“Why do you ask?” 

Ben shifted uncomfortably, “He’s the one who punched Patrick, I just wanted to get on his good side is all. If anyone is going to stand up to Bowers and his group of goons it looks like it’s gonna be him.” 

“I don’t think he’s going to stand up to anyone.” Mike corrected, remembering what Beverly had said about his conversation before the fight. “Sounds like he is just wanting to keep his head down and do his time like the rest of us.” 

“I can’t blame him.” This had been the longest conversation Mike ever had with his roommate. Ben had been here when he had arrived, welcomed him with a nod and gestured to the unoccupied bed. It felt strange and a little off putting but that could just be because they were talking about another group home member. “Did you hear about Richie’s bet?” 

“Richies bet?” Mike repeated, “No?” 

“Well I guess he has a thing going with Stan and Bowers, betting on weather he can sleep with Eddie or not. It’s a whole big thing, I think a few other people paid into the pool.” 

“That’s-” Gross, disgusting, idiotic, a fucking death wish. “Terrible. Did you tell Eddie about it?” Ben shook his head, making Mike’s stomach become heavy. “I can’t believe-well honestly I can because that Tozier guy is a nightmare.” 

“He’s alright to me.” Ben muttered, “He’s never made fun of me, or said anything about the way I dress or why I’m here. I know he’s loud but I kinda think that’s all for show.” 

Mike rolled his eyes, “What are you saying deep down he’s just a teddy bear?” 

“No.” Ben smiled, half chuckling. “No like he’s afraid to show who he really is, kind of like the rest of us. Deep down I’m not just an arsonist, just like I don’t think deep down Richie is not just trashmouth. We all put on these masks for everyone else to see, to protect ourselves from getting hurt.” 

It sounded straight out of a book, like the from the ones his mom used to read to him before bed. So cliche, and yet so true that it hurt. Masks, Mike understood about masks because he carried a variety of his own to keep everything at bay. Maybe Ben was right, maybe Richie wasn’t so bad even if he used others like they were expendable, maybe that was his way to keep himself safe. “Still is kind of shitty.” 

“Yeah but you can’t tell me you haven't done a single shitty thing in your life?” Alright, that was a valid point. “Besides, this type of thing has a way of blowing up in your face.” 

There was no point in arguing so Mike didn’t, instead he just leaned back into his mattress and stared up at the blank ceiling, trying to tame the knot in his stomach. Ben was staring, he just knew it but he couldn’t bring himself to look. With a sigh he closed his eyes, wishing sleep upon himself. Memories began to float into his brain, rattling the cage he had placed between consciousness and the pain that was constantly there. Sceams, smells and feelings clawed along his skin, gnawing at the tender flesh as if feasting on the fear that seeped from his pores. With a small whimper he pushed back, forcing the things he hated to retreat slightly. 

His grandfather's voice came forward, grounding him. 

Words that had been spoken out of anger, from a bed he couldn’t leave. 

“I raised you better son.” 

Maybe he did, but Mike seemed to have a way of ruining everything which is why he decided to keep the secret Ben had shared to himself, knowing that meddling in other people's business was not something he was good at nor did he want the drama that came with it. Keep your head down and push though, that’s what he had to do. Ben’s music began to play though his headphones, a sad tune floating between them. The night fell into the lull that it usually did, making their conversation seem distant and dream like which was good because the gullit had already began to build 

Soon however, he drifted to sleep.


	5. Landslide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Landslide by Fleetwood Mac. Warning: Mature content ahead. Mentions of sexual abuse, incest and rape so proceed with caution. Sorry, I made Beverly's life so horrible....it'll get better.

Footsteps echoed from the hallway, the heavy thuds like bullets in the dark. She knew he was coming, the night having falling long ago signaling the end of his grueling shift. On evenings like this, when the tension in the house was on high and the cold winter nipped at their heels, Beverly liked to think of a time when she wasn’t afraid of her father's arrival, when she even awaited with excited anticipation for it. Those days seemed like memories, fading with each special visit her daddy paid her. Where there were crayons and toys, there was now large hands and skin.Where there were playful dances and games, there was now hushed threats and yellowing bruises. Where there were laughter and happiness there was now tears and stifled whimpers. The world had darkened the day she had turned eleven, and had become more bleak ever since. 

Her father called out for her, the voice booming form the other side of her door. Already the tears were burning her eyes, wrapping her arms around her knees she begged for him to pass by, to head to bed early and spare her just this once. The gods however, were not feeling kind tonight and she was forced to watch as the knob to her room slowly turned. 

He crept in like the snake he was, slithering through the threshold and closing the barrier behind him with a soft click. There was a smile on his lips, the jagged teeth exposing themselves as his eyes dragged across her skin. “Hey princess, how was your day?” 

“It was okay daddy.” She forced, knowing that not answering only angered him. 

“Just okay?” The tone he took was light and friendly, inviting her partake in his sickening dance. The bed creaked as he sat down beside her, the springs screaming out in agony with the weight he carried. “Was school good? Did you learn anything new?” 

“It was fine.” Her voice was weak, filled with emotion that she had yet to understand. “I-I don’t know.” There was a bobbing motion from her shoulders, an pitiful attempt to shrug off the gut wrenching feeling that began to boil under her skin. “I wasn’t paying enough attention.” 

“Oh tsk tsk.” Her father sucked air through his razor sharp teeth, making her cringe. “Now Beverly, what have I told you about paying attention in school? We don’t want another bad report card do we?” 

“No.” God no, that had been one of the worst days of her young life, leaving her bathed in her own blood, broken on the kitchen floor. The event ended up giving the household some unwanted attention when the teachers noticed her dark marks that resembled fingers. “I’m sorry daddy I just-”

“No excuses.” Frank cut sharly, his harness making her cower into the mattress. “You listen to your father you understand?” Anger crossed across his features, making a shadow spread along the wall behind him. “I know what’s best for you! I am the adult not you!” 

Beverly sank further into herself, clutching onto her knees for support. “Yes, I’m sorry daddy.” She cried, tears falling down her porcelain checks, staining her pretty pink nightgown. Burying her face into the exposed flesh of her thigh sobs ripped though her. “I’ll pay more attention, I promise.” The power this man held over her was astonishing, the firm hand and wandering fingers keeping her in line as to not reveal the family secret that was kept between these whispering walls. “I’m sorry, please don’t be angry.” 

There was a long, exasperated breath from beside her, the heat in the air began its decline. “It’s okay baby girl, it’s all okay.” His hand slid up to her knee, placing itself there as if it had merely returned from a long trip afar. The touch scorched her skin, branding her as the disgusting piece of trash she felt she was. “Look at me Bevvie.” He commanded, digging his fingers into her skin. Fighting against the inevitable, Beverly shook her head. “I said look at me girl.” He boomed, grabbing hold of her chin and forcing it upward in one strong yank. Her grey eyes met his, staring down the darkness that had grown in her father. 

There was no slap or throw away, but rather a loosening grip and friendly smile. Gently he traced the path her tears had followed, wiping them from existence with his calloused thumb. It was such a sentimental gesture that it literally took her breath away, “You’re still my little girl right?” He whispered, the words tainted and dripping with venom. “Tell me you’re still my little girl.” 

“I-I’m still your little girl.”

He left her room an hour later, a satisfied sigh in his throat and devil horns atop his balding head, Beverly stayed in the fetal position for hours still, long after he had fallen asleep in the next room, his loud snores shaking the walls. Blood trailed down her inner thigh, ruining the fresh sheets that she had just washed that morning. There was a dull ache in her abdomen, long claw marks up up her arm and down her chest. It was bad, but it could have always been worse. 

Some day she would escape her father. 

She just had to because if not she just knew she was going to die in between those cursed four walls. 

\----

“Today is parents day.” 

There was an accumulated groan from every single one of them. Beverly sat on the staircase besides her wild haired friend with an itch for a cig gnawing at her skin. The meeting had been advertised as an exciting new therapy session and immediately turned into torture for nearly every one of the residence. Home life had been a sensitive subject during group and apparently Miss Halpert took that as an opportunity to rekindle the dying flame that was family. Beverly wanted to vomit in her know it all face. 

Ignoring the booing that came from the Bowers clan, the woman continued. “I have taken the liberty and called all of your legal guardians to invite them to come and see the progress you all have made. They should be here any minute.” 

“Yeah I have a question.” A deep voice muttered from the back. 

Miss Halpert sighed, “What is it Mr. Hockstetter?”

“What if our parents are assholes, do we have to see them then?” This was welcomed by a hollering laughter and agreeable praise, the hilariousness in it all even making Beverly grin. “I mean my Ma is a real bitch and I can’t imagine-”

“That’s enough.” She hissed, stomping against the hardwood floor. “You will behave, all of you or else consequences will follow and I don’t mean double dish duty, I mean expulsion from this house.” Her warning was well received because silence was her answer. Gathering herself up once again, Miss Hapert smiled. “Now, like I was saying before, your guardians will come and see just how well you are doing here. Please remember that there will be others here along with your own family so be courteous to others.” 

The knock at the door signaled the arrival of the first guest, a man wearing a kippah and a wary look. His eyes scanned the children who awaited by the stairs, landing on the hooded boy in the back. Stan stood, maneuvering his way through the others and stepped out towards what could only be his father from the family resemblance. The man embraced his child, it was awkward and a little hard to watch but afterwards they moved to the living room where Miss Halpart had prepared the meetings. 

What followed was a stern man in a police uniform, who nodded for Henry and immediately gained his respect which to Beverly made hell freeze over. Then there were Victors parents, who looked too normal standing next to their bleached blonde son, then Belch’s mom who was just as round as her son. Pactracks guardian was the weirdest of the group, being a small woman, no taller than four foot nothing who looked up to her full six foot son with heated eyes. 

After the Bowers fuck buddies-as Beverly so fondly calls them-were picked off the next to arrive was Bill’s parents who took one look at him and began to weep pathetically. In another lifetime maybe Beverly would admire their love for their son but she was jaded that there was nothing left in her blackened heart. Richie made some kind of comment on the mother, who wasn’t all that bad looking but she merely ignored it. 

Mike shot upward from his spot next, having seen a future though the door before the rest of them. Slowly he helped an old man, Mike’s strength along with the cane’s assistance they managed to get the him through the door frame and out onto the foay. He took one look around and scowled. This made Beverly’s lips curl in amusement. “What a dump.” The old man muttered to Mike with a growing annoyance. Mike hushed him but the man only waved it away, allowing himself to be lead towards the front room. 

There was a small, fearful woman who came in next. Here eyes were sunken and her hair matted, she looked so uncomfortable that it made Beverly herself shift in her seat. Ben rose from behind her, jumping down the stairs and smiling at the young lady with fondness. It was like seeing something from a bad movie, an awkward boy and his even more awkward mother hugging in the middle of a home for troubled kids. There was a story there, and Beverly could only imagine how it sounded coming from a poet's mouth. 

What happened after was beyond astonishing because what walked through that door next was a woman Beverly had only heard about in intoxicated stories. Richie stood, staring down to her in disbelievement, his lips twitching in either annoyance or anger. “What the fuck are you doing here Maggie?” He hissed, clenching his fists. Beverly could only watch, knowing that the history between the two of them was unrepairable. 

“I wanted to see you Richard. I wanted to talk to you and tell you that I’m so-”

“Oh fuck you!” 

“Is there a problem here?” Miss Halpert asked from the hallway, her eyes narrowing at the lany boy whose chest was puffed outward. It was a standoff for a moment, seconds passed in waves of tension and stress but fell to the ground when Richie growled and hopped from his stoop. Without a word to his mother he walked to the front room out of Beverly’s sight. 

That left two.

About ten more minutes passed. 

And still there were two. 

Looking up she glanced at Eddie, who up until this point had been completely forgotten. He didn’t look bothered by his lack of visitors no cared about her curious gaze. Richie was right, the small boy was pretty handsome considering where they were. Clearing her throat she asked, “So are you expecting your guardian to come through that door?” 

Eddie scoffed, “It’s more likely that a shapeshifting clown is going to come through that door to kill me than my mother getting off of her fat ass to come here.” 

Beverly couldn’t help but laugh, “Yeah I’m alone too, but it’s better that way you know? At least we aren’t in the middle of all that awkwardness in the next room.”

“I hear that.” 

Miss Halpert walked in from the living room with a defeated look, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and said in a sympathetic tone, “I’m sorry but it looks like you two aren’t going to get any visitors.” 

“Does that mean we are dismissed?” Eddie asked in a deadpan tone. 

“Yes.” She replied in a sigh, “Yes of course, you two are free to do what you want just please stay out of the front room until dinner.” 

Eddie nodded, moving past Beverly and walking out towards the backyard without another word edgewise. Miss Halpert watched him go, let out another fucking sigh and went back to what was unraveling in the other room. Beverly stayed there for a few minutes, trying to get a good ear on the yelling that was floating through the house but the need for a cig became too great so instead of eavesdropping she went to her bedroom to get her pack and lighter. 

What should have been a five second endeavor became a fifteen minute stumble though Richie’s messy room to steal his stash because the dumb ass had smoked all of hers the other night. The fighting had calmed down once she had made it downstairs but with one glance into the room she knew that the tension was still turned up to high. 

Slipping through the kitchen she made a beeline for the backyard, mildly surprised to see the Kaspbrak kid running the perimeter of the large yard. At some point he had shed the sweatshirt he had been wearing, the September sun beaming down on them at an unusually high intensity. Sweat had began to pool along his pecs and on his toned stomach, making him glisten in the light. If the guy wasn’t so obviously gay, she would have been interested. Walking out towards the picnic bench that had been strategically placed by the large oak she kept her eyes on him, having not been caught staring just yet. Eddie rounded the corner and ran away from her, exposing his backside and Beverly stumbled. 

Because along those well defined muscles were long, gruesome scars that stretched along the entirety of his back. Some were broken, obviously from time and growth while others were sold and deep. It was unbearable to look at and yet she couldn’t peel her eyes off of them. An uncharacteristically sympathetic emotion began to bubble in her throat, making her want to run to him and coddle what broken soul he had. That was when she was caught because Eddie was rounding the next bend and his doe eyes saw her. Beverly could feel her blood run cold in her veins. 

Eddie slowed down to a stop, wiping his forehead with his shirt before slipping back over his shoulders. This gave Beverly the opportunity to recover slightly, lighting her cig and making it to the table where she sat with a huff. In reality she should have just left it alone, should have let Eddie walk past her and into the house without asking but she was a curious creature and when she wanted something, she wanted it now. And what Beverly wanted right now was to understand. “So what’s with the scars?” It came out harsher than intended, landing right on Eddie as he walked in front of her. Cringing she rubbed the bridge of her nose and inhaled a long drag to calm the buzz of her nerves. “I didn’t mean-that came out-”

“It’s none of your business.” Eddie growled, turning slightly towards her. “And quite frankly, staring is very unlady like.” 

“I’m no lady.” She shot right back, raising her cigarette and making a crude gesture with her free hand. “And it’d be easier not to stare if you didn’t look like you walked out of a Calvin Klein magazine.” 

Eddie grinned shyly, a blush creeping up his already redden neck. “Yeah well, that comes with the job.” 

“Ah yes, streetfighting. I’ll remember that when I wanna become ripped.” This made Eddie laugh, it was soft and tender that it even earned a few chuckles from Beverly herself. Their happiness died down, the only noise between them was the neighbors sprinklers and the autumn wind. She wasn’t sure why he didn’t just leave then. They had their fun, made a joke at each others expense so now he should just walk the fuck away. Right? She watched him, breathing in the nicotine like it was a godsend. 

Why didn’t he just leave?

It was like he wanted her to ask, wanted to admit the truth. 

So she asked, unable to stop the tumble of words from dripping from her lips. “Did your mom do that to you?” The question burned her lips, scorched her throat and yet it felt so right in so many wrong ways. 

Eddie smiled to himself, shaking his head and looking back towards the house. With a deep breath he answered, his tone shallow and determined. “No. I did it to myself.” 

Beverly opened her mouth but was cut off by a loud slam of the back door, and Richie’s loud voice calling out to her. “Ayyo Red, you better have my cigarettes! I fucking need them after the sit down I just had!” 

That was when Eddie left, leaving her swimming in his answer and begging for the release an explanation would provide. Richie made a comment as they passed by, landing at Eddie’s feet where he stomped on it with his tennis shoe. When the trashomuth made to to her side the other boy was gone, forever eaten by the home and sorrow they both lived in. 

“You okay?” Richie asked, pulling a death stick from the pack and lighting it. 

“Yeah.” She lied, “I’m okay.”


End file.
